


The Finnish Girl

by Aquatics



Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, F/F, Fluff, Markers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 00:46:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/pseuds/Aquatics
Summary: Jojo liked being in the army.





	The Finnish Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveradept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/gifts).

Jojo liked being in the army.

She knew what to do. No surprises in the night, no pranks, no fighting - And if she did get into one, well, the Sgt. wouldn’t punish her unless he knew for certain that she started it. It was far better than her family, and miles better than the foster system. 

The one thing she didn’t understand was locker room talk: Girlfriends, wives, partners, etc. Sure, she’d fucked a few girls(Ok, a lot of them). A bored male squaddie at one point, just so they could both say ’Yes, I tried it, and it wasn’t for me.’ And yeah, she had to admit that it would be nice to come home to dinner and a warm pair of hands. She just hadn’t thought of it as necessary. It felt like a bad deal: She was only a common soldier. It wasn’t like she had a lot to offer a future bride, barring the meagre pay and a handsome body. Talking had never been one of her stronger points, and she doubted anyone would find her silence interesting enough to want to trade future domestic duties for it.

The latest relocation had taken them to Finland. The cold was ridiculous: Seeing the locals run around in shorts and t-shirts felt emasculating, and coming across girls dressed in short skirts even more so to Jojo. Going out on the mission felt like a relief: Nobody to compare with. Everyone issued the same gear, everyone expected to wear it regardless of temperature. 

Besides, they were doing more work than the city folk: The operation took place in the middle of now-where, miles from civilisation. Officially, it was a ’potentially sensitive archeological excavation’. Unofficially, the men were prohibited from making Area 51 jokes.

None of them had expected the new squad member.

Nobody had raised their eye much about it. It just seemed very easy to accept: Local girl wanted to join up. Passed the physical requirements. Spoke enough English, very cute accent. Sure, it was a little strange to see a woman asking to join an infantry unit - Hell, Jojo hadn’t had any female squad-mates. She did raise her eyebrow at the new team member’s long hair - It felt out of place. Still, there was something around Frida that made it hard to question her - It just didn’t feel possible to be intrusive, or even annoyed.

Frida would tell them things in her own time, and so she did - Her Eaglandian father, life growing up in a small cabin in the wild, hunting bears with a spear. Occasionally later with a Luger, though she seldom mentioned that.

Jojo enjoyed the stories about the luger, initially - She enjoyed them less after hearing the circumstances; a grandmother stuck in the winter war. Frida told it very quietly in private one night, seemingly embodying the spirit of someone far, far older than a young girl of enlistment age. Jojo inched closer, fascinated. For a moment, Frida’s skin seemed to glow, her dark hair glittering in the cool electric light.

She glanced up at Jojo, smiled, and held her hand out. Jojo could feel the flush from her neck up over her cheeks - A hot, sticky sensation that didn’t seem to be going away. She crept closer, taking Frida’s hand.

Frida’s hand was warm and small and fit into her own like a bar of melted chocolate. She leaned back against Jojo’s chest, resting her head against Jojo’s shoulder. Jojo’s heart clenched up. On one hand, she should have her hand down Frida’s skirt at this point. On the other hand, there was something calming about Frida’s weight against her lap, something that seemed to still her desires, slow them down and spread them over Frida’s story as if she were the last radio in the world.


End file.
